


Taken, pt. 3 of The Wanderer Series

by BynWho



Series: The Wanderer [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Non-Graphic Violence, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:54:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25557682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BynWho/pseuds/BynWho
Summary: Nearly 4 years since the birth of their daughter, Gwaine is put to the test when an evil from the east threatens his family and takes what is his. The Knights of Camelot band together to rescue Marian and reunite her with the only man she’s ever loved. The mystery of Rosie’s magic and a sweet surprise await the couple when they return home.
Relationships: Gwaine (Merlin)/Original Character(s), Gwaine (Merlin)/Original Female Character(s), gwaine/oc
Series: The Wanderer [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1824982
Comments: 5
Kudos: 9





	Taken, pt. 3 of The Wanderer Series

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfic for entertainment purposes only. All characters from the BBC show Merlin belong to the BBC. All other characters and plots belong to BynWho. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
> Author’s Note: This story is part 3 of The Wanderer Series, so you’ll want to read parts 1 and 2 first. I have one more chaptered story of the Marian-verse in me. I’ll post it as soon as it’s finished, so please stay tuned! Thank you for reading, and please review. Enjoy!

The Knights of Camelot were on the training field in the middle of the day. Sirs Leon, Elyan, Percival, and Gwaine were sparring with one another, explaining new techniques to the younger, less experienced knights.

Sir Gwaine and Sir Percival began their battle while everyone else looked on. It was a friendly match, of course, but neither man held back. Percival was mercilessly strong. With little effort at all, he could knock his foes down and render them unconscious. Gwaine dodged several of Percival’s mighty strikes, but only just barely. Their blades clashed, blow after blow. Gwaine tried to swing Percival’s sword from his hand, but the larger man kept his hold on the hilt. Percival tried to use his brute strength to lower Gwaine to the ground, but the rogue proved to be too strong to succumb. Though smaller in stature and in weight, Gwaine was victorious, finally able to use his foot in the back of Percival’s knees to knock him to the ground.

“And that, my lads, is how to defeat a giant,” he said, out of breath as he helped Percival to his feet.

The other knights grinned, looking around at each other and chuckling.

Sir Sagramore, however, did not join in the laughter. He was a proud knight, quick to anger, slow to apologize. He had an almost impassive way of viewing his training. Each move should be logical and carried out with precision. There was no room for improvisation.

The young knight didn’t believe Gwaine had done anything remarkable. Any man could be taken down as easily as that, if one followed the steps carefully. Sagramore was sure he’d have no trouble doing the same. “Anyone can do that,” he said aloud.

“Can they?” Gwaine asked sarcastically.

“Aye, they can. Furthermore, if you had just thrust instead of—”

“If you think you can do better, Sagramore, you are welcome to try,” Gwaine said with a smirk.

As the young knight rose to take his place across from Percival, Gwaine looked off in the distance to the edge of the forest and smiled softly. Marian was walking with a picnic basket in one hand and their daughter holding onto the other. It had been nearly four years since Rosie’s dramatic entrance into the world, but to Gwaine, it felt like yesterday.

His attention was drawn back to the match as Sagramore landed on his ass.

888

Marian led Rosie down a trail and through the forest for their weekly picnic. She enjoyed the alone time with her daughter, teaching her new things, like colors or the names of plants. Rosie was eager to learn and loved being in the outdoors more than being in the castle. Marian had hoped that she would take an interest in her herb garden, but the little one was more interested in the delights the forest held. She feared that her daughter had inherited her father’s wanderlust.

“Mummy! Deer!” Rosie squealed as she pointed to a startled fawn.

“Yes, dearheart,” Marian replied in a soft voice. “You need to stay as still and as quiet as you can if you want the fawn to stay.”

“Still and quiet,” Rosie repeated in a loud whisper.

They watched the fawn for another moment before a large doe came bounding from the bushes toward it.

“Is that the mummy?” Rosie asked quietly. “And that’s the baby?

“It is,” Marian smiled. She was enjoying her daughter’s wonderment at the creatures.

A crack echoed in the distance and spooked the deer.

“Why did the deer go away, mummy?” Rosie asked as the mother and baby bounded away from them.

“They were scared, Rosie.”

“Why?”

“They heard something in the forest and didn’t know what it was.”

“Why?”

“Because it was far away.”

“Why?”

_Oh dear,_ Marian thought, _it’s begun. The_ why _age._

“Why, mummy?

“Why don’t you pick the spot for me to lay out our picnic, huh? You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Rosie grinned and nodded eagerly. She stood a little taller and puffed her chest out slightly. Picking the spot for their picnic was an important task. One so important that her mother had wisely asked her to complete. Her mother was always trusting her with the most important tasks.

Marian stifled her laughter as her daughter proudly swaggered around the area for the perfect spot. She was just like her father.

888

They finished their meal and reclined on the blanket to digest.

“What’s that one?” Marian asked as she pointed up to a tree.

Rosie squinted as she looked at the shape of the leaves. “Oak,” she answered confidently.

“That’s right. And what about that one?”

“Maple,” she said immediately.

Marian looked around and saw a giant foreboding tree to their right. It was the only one of its kind in this part of the forest. Because of its uniqueness and its dark look, it had a reputation of doom and evil. Marian didn’t believe in such nonsense. There were many things that she never thought could be true that were, but superstitions about a tree because of its dark bark was ridiculous. She’d decided when Rosie was born, that she would teach her daughter to use science and reason to make sense of their world.

She nudged her daughter and pointed to it. “What about that one?”

Rosie knew that she knew the name, but she just couldn’t think of it. She pursed her lips as she concentrated. She knew it was supposed to be scary because Prince Borre told her lots of not-so-nice stories about the tree. Her mummy and dada had told her differently, that a tree was just a tree. But just in case they were mistaken, she made sure to stay away from it.

The thick limbs creeped out from the trunk, like the gnarled, old fingers of a witch. As she stared at it, she remembered what Borre would tell her when he was being mean. _Watch out, Rosie, or the Yew Witch will get you!_

“Yew!” she finally remembered.

“What is your da’s favorite tree?”

“Apple!”

“What’s mine?”

Rosie’s smile faded. “I don’t know.”

“Rose,” Marian answered with a mischievous grin.

“Rose is a flower, not a tree. Silly mummy!”

Marian turned to her daughter. “You think you’re so smart, do you?” she laughed, tickling Rosie’s sides.

The child’s laughter echoed across the forest as she tried to push her mother’s fingers away.

Another loud crack sounded from behind the yew tree. Marian quickly sat up and looked around them. The hair on the back of her neck stood. They were being watched.

Affecting a calm tone, Marian bent to her daughter and whispered to her.

“When I tell you, I want you to run, dearheart. Run back to your da. Do you remember the way?”

Rosie grew concerned at her mother’s serious tone but nodded anyway. “Is it chasing, mummy?”

“Yes, love. We’re going to play chase.” She heard another crack. Trying to keep her heart from pounding in her chest, Marian began to pick up their lunch and pack it back into the basket.

“Stand up, sweet,” she quietly ordered her daughter.

Rosie stood warily. She could feel the fear radiating from her mother.

Suddenly, there was a snap directly behind the yew. Birds fled the sanctuary of the branches, and then the forest became eerily quiet.

“Mummy?” Rosie whispered.

As soon as Marian heard the rustle of the leaves, she pushed her daughter forward. “Run! Run to da!”

Terrified, Rosie turned and ran the way they had come. Her little legs couldn’t run fast enough. When she heard horses, she ducked behind a large log on the forest floor and hid in the dip of ground under the trunk.

She had her eyes squeezed tightly shut, clutching the leaves in her tiny fists and willing the danger to go away. When she heard her mother struggle, she cracked one eye open to watch.

There were several men on horseback surrounding Marian. The leader jumped down and approached her, carrying an empty sack in his hands.

“You gonna come with us willingly, or am I gonna have to knock you down?” he asked menacingly.

As he neared, Marian pulled her dagger from her boot. She pointed the weapon at the leader and snarled. “Try it, motherfucker.”

“Feisty, ain’t ya?” he grinned.

He moved quick as lightning and relieved Marian of her weapon. His arms circled around her, and he pulled her toward his horse. She struggled to get away, kicking and scratching and biting.

“There was a little one with her. What do we do with it?” one of the mounted men asked.

“Kill it,” the leader ordered.

“No! NO!” Marian screamed as her hands were tied behind her. “RUN, ROSIE! RUN!” The empty sack was shoved over her head, muffling her cries.

The leader picked Marian up easily enough and slung her over his horse like a sack of flour before settling in his saddle. All but one of the men rode off into the forest.

The only man left dismounted, and, with his hands on his hips, he looked around the forest to see where the child might have run off. He walked in a circle, calling out to her.

“Come here, little girl. I won’t hurt ya. I got a present for ya,” he said in a sing-song voice as he looked behind the oak. “A pretty little trinket for a pretty little girl.”

Rosie trembled in fear when she saw his boots approach her hiding place. He stood there for another moment before his face popped down in front of her.

“Gotcha!” He reached his hands under the log, grabbing for her.

Rosie shrieked, backing out of her hiding place, and took off as fast as she could down the trail. The man ran after her, and after only a few strides, he caught her arm.

Rosie struggled and squealed, just like her mother had. He was the Yew Witch, she was sure. He’d come from the yew tree and had taken her mummy, and now he was going to get her too. Wasn’t that precisely what Borre had warned would happen? All Rosie knew was that she needed to get away and find her father.

The man was frustrated with her struggles and her ear-piercing screams. He was told to kill the little monster, and that was just what he meant to do.

“Shut up, you little brat!” he yelled at her. Her eyes widened, and she began to scream louder.

Fumbling with the dagger in his belt, his grip on her arm loosened just enough for her to pull away.

“Get back here!” he bellowed as he followed her.

She turned around when he caught up with her, and before he could reach out, she shouted out in fear. The man flew back against the trunk of a thick oak tree and crumpled to the ground.

Rosie didn’t wait for him to wake up, she turned and ran. She needed her da.

888

After Sagramore had landed on his ass one last time, Gwaine held out his hand to help him up. “Have you learned your lesson, lad?”

The young knight brushed Gwaine’s hand away and stood on his own. “Yes,” he bit out. He had not.

“That’s it for today,” Leon called to the rest.

The young knights put their swords away and headed back to the castle.

“You were a bit hard on him, Gwaine,” Leon admonished, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly.

“The boy’s too hot-headed for his own good,” Gwaine replied.

Elyan came up behind him and clapped him on the back. “Not unlike someone else we know.”

“Yes, well,” Gwaine laughed at the ribbing, “he lacks discipline and is too full of himself.”

“You have to admit he’s got talent, though,” Percival said. “He’ll make a fierce knight.”

As Gwaine opened his mouth to reply, a loud wail came from the forest. Without a second thought, Gwaine took off at full speed. The others shared a look of concern and then followed, swords at the ready.

When he entered the forest, Gwaine saw his young daughter running toward him, red-faced with tears streaming down her cheeks, her mouth opened wide as she bawled, and her arms outstretched for him.

“Dada! I want my dada!”

Gwaine dropped his sword and knelt down to grab her. She clung to his neck as he stood, brushing her damp hair from her face. “I’m here, little love. Dada is here,” he soothed.

Percival reached him first, running past and looking around the forest for Marian. Leon and Elyan quickly caught up.

“Where’s Marian?” Elyan asked.

Gwaine looked to Percival, who shook his head. She was nowhere to be seen. He turned his attention to his daughter. “Where’s your mummy, petal?” he asked, trying hard to keep the panic out of his voice.

“Th-th-the Yew Witch-ch-ch got her!” she howled.

“The… the what? What’s a Yew Witch?” he asked his friends.

Elyan sighed and shook his head. “A fairy story Borre came up with to scare his friends.”

“Gwaine, I don’t see any sign of her,” Percival told him.

“Rosie, sweet, calm down. I need you to tell me what happened. Where is your mother?” Gwaine asked, wiping the tears from her face as he held her to his chest.

“We finished the picnic. And… and mummy was asking about what kind of tree this was, and we heard what scared the deer away,” she told him through her tears. “Then mummy got scared and told me to run to you, that we were playing chase.” She wiped her nose on her sleeve. “And then the men came and stoled mummy.”

“How many men, petal? Do you remember?”

“Lots.”

“Were they riding horses?” Percival asked her.

She turned to him and nodded. “They tolded mummy that they would kill me, and she screamed and cried.” Wiping her eyes, her little chin began to tremble. “The Yew Witch caught me, dada, but I ran away. Just like mummy said.”

Gwaine’s jaw twitched, and his face reddened in anger. How dare anyone lay a finger on his family. He would find the men and make them pay. He swore it. Drawing a deep breath to calm his temper Gwaine continued to question his daughter.

“How did you get away, petal?”

“I screamed just like mummy.”

“And he just let go of you?” Elyan asked.

Rosie shook her head. “No, he flied away. Like a bird.”

The knights looked at each other in confusion. Gwaine kissed his daughter’s temple and held her close, rocking her. “It’s alright, little love. I will find mummy,” he promised.

Percival came up beside him and laid his hand on Gwaine’s shoulder, looking at the frightened little girl. “ _We_ will find your mummy, Rosie.”

She turned toward the giant and reached for his face. Though she was high off the ground in her father’s arms, Percival still had to bend for her to touch him. She placed a small hand on either side of his face so that he looked her in the eye.

“Promise, Uncle Percy. You protect my dada,” she commanded, tears falling, “You find my mummy. Promise.”

“I give you my promise, little one.”

Percival kissed her brow and stood.

Gwaine looked over to Leon and Elyan, his question unasked. Brothers-in-arms, yet more than brothers, they instinctively knew what needed to be done. Leon nodded and turned to run to the stables for horses and supplies. Elyan stepped up beside Gwaine and held his arms out to Rosie.

“Go with Uncle Elyan, petal. He will take you into the castle, and the queen will keep you safe.”

Rosie kissed her father before leaping into Elyan’s waiting arms. The knight cradled her to his shoulder and turned to go up to the castle.

“I love you, dada,” she said from over her uncle’s shoulder.

“I love you too, petal,” Gwaine called out.

When she was out of earshot, Gwaine turned to Percival. “I’m going to kill them, Percival. All of them,” he said quietly. It was taking all his willpower to control his rage.

“I know.”

“We need Merlin.”

“We do. We also need a hot-head, Gwaine.”

Gwaine nodded. “Go get Merlin. I’ll find Sagramore. We’ll meet in the courtyard and leave within half an hour.”

Percival clapped Gwaine on the back, and they left, going in opposite directions.

Gwaine had never been angrier in his life. His wrath would be mighty, and his sword swift. He would recover his wife and get his revenge on the men who threatened his family.

888

“Gaius, are you sure this calls for foxglove?” Merlin asked as he was gathering the ingredients for a potion. Usually, potion-making was Marian’s job, but he had offered to do it today so she could take her daughter on a picnic.

Merlin enjoyed helping the physician, he and Marian still had a lot to learn from the elderly man, after all. The warlock was frustrated, though. He had magic. Everyone knew he had magic. And yet, Gaius insisted the potions be made and without Merlin’s supernatural talents.

“Yes, only one dram, though,” Gaius answered from behind a stack of books.

“I still don’t see why you won’t let me just find a spell for this. We could probably cut out half of the potions we make if you let me use my magic.”

“And what if you aren’t here, Merlin? How would Marian or I treat dropsy without this potion?”

“Well, Marian could…”

Gaius stood as Merlin trailed off, and looked over at the warlock, his eyebrow raised high. “And if it’s someone she doesn’t know? You remember how her magic works. She must care for the person in her heart. Merlin, magic isn’t the answer to everything. Sometimes old fashioned science is our only hope.”

“I know, Gaius, I really do. I just get so frustrated with how long everything takes,” Merlin sighed as he set the ingredients on the table.

“It doesn’t help that Arthur requires so much of your counsel, does it?”

“I don’t mind, of course. I’m happy he knows about my magic and _finally_ values my opinion. There’s just not enough time in the day for me to accomplish everything I need to.”

The door suddenly opened with force, loudly banging against the wall. Percival stood in the doorway, blocking all the light. He was wide-eyed and out of breath.

“Percival?” Gaius asked, stepping out into the room. “Is everything alright?”

“Marian is missing,” he stated. “Some men attacked her when she was on her picnic and apparently took her.”

“Rosie?” Merlin asked quickly, fearing for his young niece.

“She’s with the queen now. The little thing was so frightened. It was… it was heartbreaking to see her so scared.”

“How is Gwaine taking this?” Gaius asked. Everyone was well acquainted with the knight’s temper, but the physician feared it would be more out of control than usual since it was his wife that was taken.

“He’s composed, almost serene, but underneath it all, he’s seething. We’re forming a party to go after the bastards,” Percival told them, the anger in his voice barely controlled. “Merlin, will you come?”

“You don’t even have to ask. Let me gather some supplies, and I’ll be there. Ready a horse for me?”

The giant knight nodded. “The courtyard, half an hour,” he said before he turned and left.

Merlin looked to Gaius, the worry evident on both men’s faces.

“I’ll gather some potions. Take my medicine bag, Merlin.”

“Thanks, Gaius,” he said as he ran up the steps to his room and began to pack his leather satchel.

888

Gwaine headed down to the armory in the hopes of finding Sagramore. Neither man cared much for the other, but Gwaine knew he needed the young knight’s help. Sagramore was undisciplined, it was true. He had trouble following commands. But Percival had been correct. The man was talented, and he would make one hell of a knight once his training was completed. In truth, Sagramore was very much like Gwaine.

“Sagramore,” Gwaine called out when he saw the knight replacing a sword on the weapons rack.

Sagramore turned around and took a step back when he saw the fury on the older knight’s face. He didn’t understand what he had done to anger Gwaine this time. Looking around, he saw that they were alone and that a confrontation could not be avoided. Sighing, he started to remove the bracers from his arms.

“Gwaine.”

“Leave those on,” Gwaine said as he nodded to Sagramore’s arms. “Gather your weapons and come with me.”

“I’m exhausted, Gwaine. Could we leave the lessons for later? You can hand me my ass after I’ve gotten a good night’s rest.”

He expected Gwaine to lose his temper, and he wasn’t disappointed. What he didn’t expect was that Gwaine’s anger wasn’t directed at him.

The muscles in Gwaine’s jaw twitched as he fought to calm himself before speaking. “I’m in need of your help, Sagramore. They’ve taken Marian, and they threatened my daughter.”

“Who? Who has taken Lady Marian?”

“Thugs of some sort. I only know what Rosie has told me.”

As he buckled his bracers again, Sagramore turned back to the weapons rack. “How many?”

“We’re not sure. They were on horseback.”

Sagramore picked up a sword, sheathing it in his belt and walked over to the crossbows and bolts. He turned suddenly as a thought hit him.

“Why me? I’m untrained, according to you. You hate me.”

Gwaine sighed. There wasn’t time for these questions, but he knew the man wouldn’t go unless his curiosity was satisfied.

“I need your temper.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sagramore asked, heated at the accusation.

“Sagramore, I don’t hate you. You are more like me than I care to admit, but right now I’m… God, I’m raging,” he started to pace, his hand running through his hair. “They took my wife, for pity’s sake! They threatened to kill my daughter!”

Sagramore flinched at the fury in Gwaine’s voice.

“You’re rash and reckless. You leap before looking. You let your anger control you. You’re a hot-head.”

Sagramore raised his eyebrows. “If you’re trying to ask me for a favor, this is a piss-poor way of doing it.”

“I need you to help rescue Marian because I can’t control my temper right now, and I’m afraid I’ll put her in more danger,” Gwaine admitted.

“Your unit works because you each bring something different to the table, isn’t that right?”

Gwaine nodded.

“And right now, you’re too distraught to be what you need to be to make the unit work as it should. Is that it?”

“It is.”

“You’re a hot-head as well, and I’m the only other person who could fill that role?”

“Please, Sagramore. I’m begging. Marian is my heart,” Gwaine said, his voice cracking.

Sagramore looked at Gwaine. The anger had melted from the older knight’s face and left a look of despair. “I’ll ready my horse,” he said.

“Thank you,” Gwaine said as he turned to leave.

“Gwaine?” Sagramore called out when he had reached the door. Gwaine looked at him over his shoulder. “I’ve never… had that. A family that cared. You’re a lucky man.”

“I didn’t have one either, Sagramore. Not until I found Marian.”

888

Gwaine was pacing in the stone courtyard, impatient to get on their way. Percival stood watching his friend, a frown on his face. He couldn’t stand seeing Gwaine’s anguish.

“They’re coming, Gwaine. You need to be patient.”

“I’m trying, Percival, I really am. I just can’t help but wonder what Marian is going through.” His hands clenched into fists at his side. “Is she hurt? Are they beating her? Oh, God, Percival, what if they’re violating her?” he said as his temper flared. “If there is a single scratch on her, one hair misplaced, I’ll make sure they suffer before they die.”

Percival walked over and tried to calm his friend. “Gwaine, thinking like that won’t help her.”

“I’ve done some pretty distasteful things in my life, Percival, but none will compare to what I am going to do with the men responsible.”

Percival nodded in understanding. “You’ll have plenty of help with that, my friend.”

“To think what they could have done to my Rosie as well,” his voice was low and dangerous, his teeth clenched, and his nostrils flared.

“Gwaine, you need to calm so you can think straight. You aren’t alone, we’re going to help, but we need you clear-headed.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Gwaine said as he took a deep breath. “Thank you, Percival. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Percival smiled at Gwaine. He would do anything for his brothers, of course, but his mind was focused solely on Marian and Rosie. Both mother and child had worked into his heart and were as dear to him as any family could be.

“Here they come,” Percival said as Arthur and Elyan ran out of the castle and down the steps, the king having just heard of Marian’s disappearance.

Arthur made sure Rosie was settled with his wife and son before finding Gwaine. He was angered that anyone dared to come into his kingdom and kidnap one of his subjects, a member of his household, his friend. The fact that they had also threatened an innocent child had him fuming.

Gwaine misinterpreted the king’s expression, thinking Arthur was angry that he hadn’t asked permission before readying to leave, and he prepared to argue with him.

“No power on this earth can keep me from going after my wife, Arthur,” he told the king, his eyes flashing dangerously.

Arthur nodded. “Of course. You can have anything you need, Gwaine.” He wished that he could go along, teach these men what happens when you terrorize Camelot and her subjects. But he had responsibilities at home that he had to consider. Camelot needed her king. Besides, that’s what his knights were for. That’s why they were the most feared in the five kingdoms.

Leon, Merlin, and Sagramore led enough horses for the six of them into the courtyard. Each horse was saddled and carrying supplies.

“You’ve convinced Sagramore to go as well?” Arthur asked Gwaine. “It’s good to see the bond between my knights is strong.” He laid his hand on Gwaine’s shoulder. “Bring Marian home safe. Your daughter has already informed me that she’ll have my head if you don’t.”

“Take care of her for me, Arthur. If anything should happen to her mother or me…” he couldn’t finish. Arthur now knew what had happened to Gwaine’s mother. Though Gwaine knew Arthur to be better than Carleon ever was, he still needed to hear the king say it.

“Your family will be treated as my own, Gwaine. I swear it.”

Gwaine nodded to his king and mounted his horse. The company left with haste.

“Which way do we go?” Merlin asked as they entered the forest.

“Rosie came from that direction,” Leon replied, pointing east. “Perhaps she left some footprints. Percival?”

“No need,” Gwaine interrupted. “She said the Yew Witch got her.”

Sagramore and Merlin looked at Gwaine in confusion.

“Of course,” Elyan said. “The yew tree. The only one on this side of the city is this way,” he told them before taking the lead.

They rode only a few short minutes before Elyan stopped.

“God above,” he said as he dismounted. “Gwaine, you’ll want to see this.”

Merlin and Gwaine both dismounted while the other knights searched the area for tracks. Percival passed the forgotten picnic still on the ground and went toward the yew tree while Leon and Sagramore went in the opposite direction.

Elyan moved to the side to reveal what had caused him to stop. There was a man slumped against an oak tree, a dagger in his hand, dead. He was tall, by Gwaine’s estimation, and dressed in a dirty tunic and leather trousers. His eyes were wide, and a look of fear was frozen onto his face.

“What do you think could have scared him so?” Elyan asked as Merlin bent next to the body to examine it.

“There’s not a mark on him. Nothing to suggest a struggle,” the warlock said.

“He flew like a bird,” Gwaine muttered. “My daughter. It was Rosie. Elyan, remember she said the man who caught her flew like a bird when she screamed.”

The three men looked at each other, knowing exactly what that meant.

“Rosie’s magic is coming back, isn’t it?” Leon asked as he walked up beside Gwaine.

“It seems so,” Merlin replied.

“Coming back? I don’t understand,” Sagramore looked around at the others.

“Here!” Percival called from behind the yew tree. “There are tracks, it looks like four… maybe five horses.

Gwaine jogged over to him and looked at the ground.

“And here,” Percival pointed to slender footprints. “This was Marian.”

Gwaine crouched to the ground and lightly ran his fingers over the footprints as if he could feel his wife where she’d stood.

“There was a struggle,” Gwaine said as he followed Marian’s steps. “And here. They disappear.” His nostrils flared, and his breath quickened.

“They must have put her on a horse. I’m sure of it,” Merlin said, hoping to calm the knight.

“Yes, a horse,” Gwaine agreed, stamping his fear down. They had taken her. She wasn’t dead, he hoped.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his hands over his weary face. Marian would have put up a fight, especially since their daughter was in danger. Gwaine often referred to her as a lioness when it came to protecting their child. He just hoped that she didn’t get herself hurt when she didn’t cooperate with the kidnappers.

“Do you see which direction they rode in, Percival?” Gwaine asked as he stood.

“We ride east,” Percival replied.

888

Marian couldn’t see anything from her perch on the horse. The sack was still over her head, and her hands were tied together behind her. The bully carrying her off had stopped only once after she had nearly kicked his face. He moved her into a sitting position in front of him and held her tightly around her waist. She’d thought to get loose and jump from the horse until the brute leaned close to her ear, telling her that he was enjoying her squirming against him.

After a few hours of riding, they stopped. The man behind her dismounted and pulled her roughly from the horse’s back. Marian grunted as she landed hard.

“Is the bag necessary?” a bored voice called out.

“Didn’t want the wench to know where we was going. She’s a feisty one,” the bully replied.

“Take it off, Duncan.”

The bully, Duncan, ripped the bag from her head. Marian squinted against the setting sun, trying to take in her surroundings. The landscape didn’t look familiar to her. There was a rocky hill to the west and a stream wound around it.

There were tents clumsily erected between the hill and the stream, and a large fire pit sat in the middle of the camp. She watched as the rest of the men from their party dismounted and went into the tents. One came back out to light the fire while another brought out a brace of pheasants to roast. Marian assumed this was where the thugs called home.

The bored man sauntered up to Marian and grabbed her chin, turning her head side to side to look at her.

“She’s a pretty one, for sure.”

“The baron gonna take her for his wife, Ramkin?”

Marian started at that. There was no way she was going to let anyone lay a hand on her. “I’m already married, you imbecile,” she said condescendingly.

Duncan back-handed her, and she fell to the ground. “I ain’t gonna take no lip from a servant!”

Marian looked confused for a moment, and then remembered that she was wearing one of her regular linen dresses. Her position as Gwaine’s wife afforded her more luxurious clothing, but she preferred to keep wearing more modest dresses for every day. The one she was wearing was bright blue, with stars embroidered on the front. A gift from Gwaine long before they had married.

Rather than correcting him, she let them think she was just a poor servant. If Duncan knew who she really was, he’d probably kill Ramkin and ransom her to the king. At least Ramkin looked a little more civilized than the thugs. She supposed she would be safer with him than with Duncan.

Instead, she narrowed her eyes at the thug and gave him the most hateful stare she could muster.

“Don’t look at me like that, bitch!” He raised his hand for another strike, but Ramkin grabbed his wrist.

“Enough! Guilde wants her unharmed.” He reached down and pulled Marian to her feet. “Did you come across any trouble? Were you seen?”

Duncan shrugged. “There was a little one with her, but we seen to that. Nobs stayed behind to kill the brat.”

“And did he?” Ramkin asked the thug.

“He must’ve. He should be back soon if you wanna ask him.”

Marian began to violently pull against her abductor. “You son of a bitch! I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you!” she roared.

Duncan laughed. “You’d better watch her, Ramkin. Thoughts of escape been stirrin’ in her.”

Ramkin ignored the man and led her over to his horse. He gave the reins to one of Duncan’s men to hold the horse steady.

“No, I don’t think I want to meet this _Nobs_ ,” he drawled out the name in disgust. He didn’t care to associate with such… filth. But they were expendable and served their purpose.

“We aren’t complete barbarians,” he said to Marian as he untied her hands. He held onto her shoulders, keeping her still. “You’ll not give me any trouble, will you, girl?”

Marian didn’t answer. She raised her chin and refused to look at him.

Ramkin chuckled. “On the horse,” he commanded. Once she was settled, he jumped up behind her and took the reins.

“It’s nearly dark,” Marian said, expecting they would have to stop for the night. She hoped to make her escape in the darkness while the men slept.

“We ride through the night. Hyah!”

The horse reared back and then took off.

Marian held back her tears. With her eyes closed, she prayed Gwaine would find her before she was forced to wed whoever Guilde was. She had no clue just how much danger she was really in as they rode east.

888

Percival walked back to the others still mounted on their horses. “I’ve lost the trail for now. It’s too dark.”

“GODDAMMIT!” Gwaine roared.

He jumped down from his horse and began picking up anything he could from the ground and threw it. He kicked a rotting tree stump, breaking the ground’s hold on it before it flew across the clearing, and stormed off.

“It’s your turn, Percival,” Leon said as he dismounted. Everyone in the party had taken turns to calm Gwaine when he went into a rage. They were all fatigued, of course, and tension was high, but it seemed that Gwaine’s anger was becoming volatile. 

The clearing they had stopped in was ideal for a camp. There was a small spring nearby and plenty of firewood already on the forest floor.

“I don’t even know why I’m here. Gwaine hates me,” Sagramore confessed to Merlin as they gathered wood for the fire.

“Sagramore,” Merlin started, “you wouldn’t be here if Gwaine hated you.”

“I’m not so sure,” he replied. “It certainly feels like a punishment to have to put up with his temper.” The knight suddenly stood as a thought had occurred to him. “Merlin, what did Leon mean when he asked if the girl’s magic was coming back? Surely she is too young to have learned—”

“Rosie was born during a siege on the city. Several Saxons had snuck into the castle while the rest tried to breach the citadel gates,” Merlin told him. “The baby started to come while Gwaine was trying to get Marian to safety. They ended up hiding in a storeroom.”

“Lady Marian gave birth in a storeroom?” Sagramore said incredulously. As ignorant about women as he was, even he knew that a storeroom wasn’t a comfortable place for her to bring a baby into the world.

Merlin nodded and continued his story. “They were alone, so Gwaine did what he could to put her at ease, and when the baby, Rosie, was close, Saxons found them and attacked. According to Gwaine, he was pinned to the wall by one of them when the other went after Marian. The man had his sword up, ready to kill her and the baby, but a blue light burst from her and spread through the walls before he could, felling every Saxon in the city.”

Sagramore let out the breath he’d been holding. He’d never heard of magic powerful enough to take out the enemies in an entire city. He didn’t think even Merlin had that much power. “How do you know it was the child and not Lady Marian’s magic?”

“Marian’s magic is… peculiar. She wasn’t born with it, as there is no magic where she is from, but it… surfaced… after she came to Camelot.”

“Where is she from—”

Merlin interrupted his question. “It’s not for me to say.” No one other than Gwaine, Merlin, and Gaius knew the full truth of Marian’s past.

“Healing and prophetic dreams are my wife’s only magic,” Gwaine said as he came up behind them.

Sagramore expected the older knight to be upset that they were discussing Lady Marian. Instead, when he looked into Gwaine’s eyes, he only saw the love the man had for his wife.

“She’s exceptional, Marian is. She gives so much of herself to everyone around her. I’ve never known a gentler and more fiercely protective heart. That is until my daughter was born.” He walked past the two and headed back to the camp. “Yes, the magic that saved us that day came from my little Rosie.”

The knights settled in for the night while Merlin graciously fixed stew for their supper. Gwaine sat away from the rest, watching as they sharpened their swords and chatted the empty hours away until time to sleep.

He dreaded the nightmares he knew he would have. Not being able to protect his wife and child left Gwaine not only angry but scared as well. His only comfort was that Rosie was safe back in Camelot. Arthur had promised him that regardless of the outcome, Rosie would be taken care of and well-loved. Now he just needed to bring Marian home safe and sound.

Gwaine’s thoughts drifted to happier times as he watched Elyan and Percival. The giant knight ladled out some stew into a wooden bowl and handed it to Elyan before getting some for himself. It was a small action that most wouldn’t think twice about. But Gwaine knew it meant much more.

Marian had told him months ago that the knights were in love, they just didn’t realize it yet.

_“Oh, Gwaine! I can’t believe you can’t see it,” she said exasperated. “Percival has been in love with Elyan for nearly as long as I’ve loved you.”_

_“I just don’t see it, beautiful. I’m sorry, but all I see is one man’s kindness to another.”_

_Marian turned to him, frowning. “Wait, you don’t… please tell me you don’t have anything against two men in love.”_

_Gwaine pulled her into his arms and kissed her brow. “Of course not, sweetheart. Love is too wonderous a thing to deny any man of it. But I just can’t see Percival and Elyan loving each other. They’re like brothers. Like the rest of us.”_

_“Well, I’m going to talk to them. Separately, of course. Percival doesn’t think Elyan could love him, and I’m quite sure that Elyan doesn’t think Percival could love him back. They’re being idiots about it. Just like we were way back when.”_

Gwaine was glad that he’d been wrong. Ever since Marian had spoken to them, both knights had been happier than he had ever seen them.

“Is the wedding still set for next month, Leon?” Elyan asked as he dug into his supper.

Leon chuckled as he sat down with his bowl. “It is. Mithian is anxious to get it over with,” he said.

“The wedding or the wedding night?”

Leon grinned. “Both I should expect.”

“King Leon,” Percival stated. “It’s got a nice ring to it.”

“King only in name, mind you,” Leon told them, pointing his spoon at the knights. “I was adamant about that. Nemeth is Mithian’s kingdom, and I’ll not take anything away from her.”

“Will you have any duties, then?” Elyan asked.

Leon adjusted his position and leaned in, obviously eager to talk about his future. “Well, because of our marriage, Camelot and Nemeth have come to a sort of treaty, as it were. Of course, I’ll be a king and should Mithian… well, let’s just say I’m her second in command,” he grinned at the military term he’d used to describe his upcoming marriage. “But my main duty will be the safety and security of the kingdom. At my suggestion, Arthur has agreed that Nemeth’s knights are to be trained in Camelot.”

“How did you manage that?” Sagramore asked.

This time it was Merlin who spoke up. “Arthur believes that a strong ally to the south of Camelot is for the best. And what better way to strengthen Nemeth’s defenses than to strengthen her soldiers?” the warlock said, grinning.

“By the time I’m done with them, they’ll rival Camelot,” Leon boasted.

“And since Nemeth’s queen will be married to not just a Knight of Camelot, but a close and personal friend of King Arthur, there’s no reason to think Nemeth will betray the treaty,” Merlin added.

Leon gave the warlock an annoyed look. “Mithian isn’t like that. She’s…” he began. Leon smiled softly as he thought of his bride. “She’s honorable and kind and loyal and beautiful and absolutely perfect.”

“You really do love her, don’t you?” Sagramore asked.

“Of course, he does,” Merlin laughed, starting on his own supper. “Anyone who’s seen them together would know it. They’re just like Gwaine and Marian…” Merlin trailed off before he could finish.

All eyes were on Gwaine, waiting for him to explode in another fit of anger.

Instead, he grinned and stood to get his supper. “Yes, except Mithian must be blind to marry a toad like Leon,” he smirked.

Everyone laughed with him, relieved with his jest.

Gwaine sat down and forced himself to eat. He would be no good to anyone half-starved and asleep on his feet. The rest of the evening kept his mind off his despair, and he was able to have a dreamless sleep.

888

The sun had just risen as Ramkin and Marian reached their destination. The fortress was old and falling apart in some places. It would have been grand and foreboding long ago, but now it looked as if an army of children could breach its walls.

They dismounted in the courtyard, Ramkin holding her arm in a vice-like grip. “You, boy,” he called to a young man. “Take my horse.”

Ramkin threw the reins at him and turned to lead Marian to the door.

“Erik,” the man called out to Ramkin’s back.

“What?”

“My name. It’s Erik,” he snarled as he walked the horse back to its master. “You’d better learn it real quick, Ramkin.”

Ramkin narrowed his eyes and straightened his back, towering over the repulsive little man.

“Yeah, that’s right. I’m Baron Guilde’s right-hand man, see. So’s you best keep that in mind before you start bellowing orders about, _my lord._ ” Erik gave a seemingly obsequious bow to Ramkin, his arms spread wide as he bent low, obviously mocking the man, and then took the horse to the stables. The sound of his gleeful laughter rang across the courtyard.

“Filth,” Ramkin muttered.

He led Marian into the fortress and down a few flights of wet stone stairs, to the dank and moldy dungeon. Though she’d been defiant all the way back, making the journey take longer by trying to flee, she was not to be mistreated. The baron who’d hired him wanted her in good condition for whatever it was he had planned for her. Oh, how Ramkin desperately wanted to beat her into submission. He almost hoped she would anger the baron so that he could.

She walked into the dungeon with her shoulders squared, and her head held high. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was almost regal. He chuckled to himself. A regal serving wench. That’d be the day.

“Nothing can save your life now, Ramkin,” Marian warned, her voice cool.

He laughed behind her. “Is that right?” he asked as he reached around and opened the cell door.

She turned to face her captor. “Right now, my husband is on his way here to rescue me and avenge the death of our daughter. Nothing will save you from his wrath. And I give you my word, it will be violent.”

He laughed again, shoving her into the dark cell. “I am not afraid of a peasant, wench.”

“My husband is no peasant, you half-witted clotpole.”

He let that one go. She was upset and tired, so allowances must be made. “Oh,” he drawled out, “and just who is your husband, girl?”

Marian turned to face him as he started to shut the cell door. She raised herself up, and with a calm expression, she answered him.

“Sir Gwaine of Camelot.”

Watching him through the small window of the door, she grinned as the color drained from his face. Oh, he knew there was no hope for him now. Marian allowed her smile to grow as he looked at her through the bars, his cool façade melting into sheer terror.

He cursed as he walked back up the stairs to the Great Hall. They were fucked. Every last one of them.

Marian’s composure broke as soon as he left her alone. She fell to the floor and held her face in her hands, sobbing. Her dear little girl was dead. She would never hear Rosie’s sweet laugh or see her precious face again. Never comfort her when she had a nightmare or kiss her when she told her she loved her.

“Half me, half you,” she repeated the words Gwaine had said when Rosie was born.

At the thought of her husband, her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. Though she knew Gwaine would rescue her, she almost wished he wouldn’t. Marian dreaded his look of anger when he blamed her for Rosie’s death. She hadn’t kept their daughter safe. It was her fault and hers alone. The guilt tore at her insides, threatening to eviscerate her.

She hugged her middle and bent low as sob after sob wracked her body, tearing her soul apart.

Gwaine would hate her for not protecting their daughter.

888

Ramkin burst into the Great Hall, intent on confronting Baron Guilde. He was angry, yes, but more than anything, he was afraid. Ramkin wasn’t typically one to cower. He had been in service to a fearsome king at one point. The Knights of Camelot, though, had him shaking in his boots.

The knights were fierce and unforgiving. The tale of Camelot’s bravest defeating the evil sorceress Morgana and her Saxon army spread like wildfire throughout the five kingdoms. It was said that no other army would have been able to accomplish the task.

Ramkin had also heard whispers of a rumor about Camelot’s knights. They had a wizard on their side. A formidable one, too, with powerful magic that hadn’t been seen in Albion since the dark times.

If this woman they had kidnapped was really the wife of one of their knights, then their vengeance would know no bounds. And what had Duncan said? That they killed a child that had been with this woman? He swallowed hard. Not _a_ child. Her child. Her husband’s child. The child of a Knight of Camelot.

At the far end of the Great Hall, there was an ornate high-backed chair and a small table in the middle. Baron Guilde sat in the chair, stuffing his face with a venison roast that laid out on a rye bread trencher seated on the table in front of him. He took breaks from shoveling the slop into his mouth to slurp loudly from his goblet of wine. Streams of the drink poured down his chin as he gulped greedily.

Ramkin reached the baron just as he was tearing the trencher apart, ready to eat what had been soaked with juices from the greasy meat. He didn’t wait for Guilde to acknowledge him.

“She’s married to a Knight of Camelot!” he yelled. His employer nodded dismissively, and Ramkin’s eyes widened in disbelief. “You knew. Didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“Why in God’s name did you have us go after her, then? Do you realize what you’ve done?”

The large man stuffed the last of the soggy trencher into his face, and with his mouth full, he laughed. “He’s but a man, Ramkin. And every man has a weakness. He will not harm us,” the bulbous baron replied confidently, bits of food and spittle escaping his cavernous mouth. He finally looked up from his meal, and belching, he watched as Ramkin grew angrier. “My, my Ramkin, you cower like an old woman.” Guilde sucked at his front teeth, trying to dislodge a piece of masticated venison. “What has gotten into you? I was told that you were once the fiercest bounty hunter in the land. And now your knees knock together at the thought of a few weaklings waving the Pendragon flag.” Guilde picked his goblet up. “Tsk, tsk,” he tutted. “Fear doesn’t suit you, Ramkin. Not at all.” He turned his goblet up and drained the rest of his wine.

“You fool! You’ve awoken a great dragon! The reputation that King Arthur’s knights have was _earned_. I can promise you this, none will survive.”

Ramkin didn’t wait for Guilde to reply. He turned and left the Great Hall, muttering curses.

“You want me to dispose of him, sire?” Erik said as he weaseled his way beside the baron.

“Not yet, Erik. I may still have a use for him.” Guilde chuckled at Erik’s disappointed look. “Don’t worry, my lad, I’ll let you have your fun one way or another. We still have the Lady Marian in our grip. After she has done what I brought her here to do, you may dispose of her however you see fit.”

Erik grinned wickedly as he pulled out his dagger and used the edge of the blade to shave off the top of his thumbnail.

“I likes the killin’ part, sire. It’ll give me great pleasure to kill the bitch.”

“I know it will, Erik. I know.”

888

The trail led Merlin and the knights northeast through the Forest of Ascetir to the border between Camelot and Essetir. Leon held up his hand and silently called for the rest to stop. They could see smoke from a campfire in the distance, so Merlin and the knights dismounted quickly. They muzzled their horses and stealthily made their way toward the smoke, swords at the ready.

The camp was between a rocky hill and a small stream. It had five poorly constructed tents littered about with a firepit in the middle. Voices were raised as two men left one of the tents, arguing.

“Nobs ain’t come back, Duncan,” one of the men said.

“Don’t you think I know that, Burley?” Duncan hissed.

“You think he made off with the girl, don’t you?” another man said as he entered the camp. “You don’t think none of us is loyal, Duncan.”

“I ain’t never said such, Robbie!”

A smaller man had followed Robbie into the circle of tents. “Nobs is my brother, Dunc. How comes you ain’t worried for him like we is?”

Duncan threw his hands up. “What do you want me to do, Blue? Go back to Camelot? I ain’t never goin’ near that place again. They got a wizard, you know.”

“But Nobs, Dunc. What about him?” Blue all but begged.

“He got himself in trouble, not us. It ain’t my fault.”

Burley got in Duncan’s face. “But you was the one who ordered him to kill the brat, Duncan. So’s, you see, it _is_ your fault.”

Merlin looked at Gwaine, his eyes wide. These were the men that took Marian. He’d bet anything that Nobs was the dead man they’d left behind.

Gwaine stared at the ground, his face turning red and his nostrils flaring. He felt the fury ignite deep within him as adrenaline poured into his veins, burning with rage. Screams of revenge tearing from his throat, he stood from his hiding place and charged at the thugs. Ready for a fight, the other knights followed him into the fray.

They needn’t have bothered, though. Seeing red, Gwaine was like a madman, dancing around the camp, clashing swords with anyone who came near. He was out of control, going from one man to the next, making sure each thug suffered as he ran his sword through their gullet. Percival searched the tents to make sure there wasn’t anyone else lying in wait while the rest watched Gwaine exact his revenge. The thugs were hardly a match for the wrathful husband and father.

Burley, Robbie, and Blue were quickly cut down. Duncan, however, was proving to be more skilled than his cohorts. Gwaine enjoyed the challenge, his anger venting like steam from a kettle. He needed to kill the man who’d taken his wife and ordered his daughter to be murdered. All too soon for the knight, it was over as Duncan fell to the ground and lost his sword.

“Gwaine!” Merlin yelled as the furious knight raised his sword to deliver the fatal blow. “We need him alive!”

The knight’s eyes narrowed at Duncan. He nodded and dropped his hands.

Merlin rushed to the lone surviving thug. “Where’s the woman you took?”

Duncan laughed. “I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’, boy.”

Gwaine hoisted Duncan up by the scruff of his neck. Holding onto him, he punched the thug in the face and dropped him back to the ground.

“He said you need me alive,” Duncan said boldly, wiping at the blood pouring from his nose. “You can’t do nothin’ to make me talk.”

Gwaine crouched beside Duncan and, in a low, dangerous voice, threatened the man. “He said _alive_ , not in one piece.”

Duncan tried to swallow, his mouth suddenly dry.

“That wizard you’re so afraid of? His name is Merlin, and he’s all that is keeping me from running you through,” Gwaine said menacingly.

Duncan’s eyes widened in fear and then narrowed as he looked at Merlin, taking stock of the young warlock.

“That boy ain’t no wizard.”

Merlin’s eyes glowed gold, and a large branch snapped off a tree overhead and landed next to Duncan, barely missing him.

“She ain’t here!” Duncan hurried to reply. “Ramkin’s taken her, he has.”

“Ramkin?” Gwaine said as he grasped Duncan’s collar.

“Sir Ramkin!” Duncan said. He fell back as Gwaine let go of him and stood. “Some baron’s hired him, you see. Goes by the name of Guilde.”

“What does he want with Lady Marian?” Sagramore asked as he walked up to Gwaine’s side.

“Lady? Nah, we took a serving wench,” Duncan explained, almost relieved that they were looking for another woman. Perhaps he would survive this encounter after all.

“That _serving wench_ is my wife!” Gwaine bellowed. He started forward to kill the bastard, but Sagramore held him back.

Duncan smiled wickedly. “Then you’ll be wantin’ to kill the baron, I suppose. Not me. He plans to take the wench for _his_ wife.”

Gwaine screamed and raised his weapon. This time, Sagramore didn’t hold him back as the knight’s sword pierced Duncan’s chest. Gwaine pulled the blade from Duncan and wiped the blood off with the dead man’s shirt.

“Ramkin? He’s one of Lot’s men, isn’t he?” Elyan asked, staring at the dead thug.

“Aye, he was,” Sagramore answered, his nostrils flaring. “I’ve come across him before. He disgraced himself and went into hiding. Word has it he got into the bounty business. He was last seen in the Forest of Merendra in Essetir.”

“There’s an abandoned fortress there. I bet anything that’s where Ramkin and this baron are keeping Marian,” Leon said.

“Is it far?” Percival asked.

“It’s outside of Engerd,” Merlin replied.

Gwaine roared in anger. “We’ve been going the wrong way!”

“If we ride hard, we can make Engerd by tomorrow,” Merlin said as they mounted and rode away from the camp.

888

It was midday before anyone came for Marian. She was pulled from the dark cell by Guilde’s man, Erik. He was of short stature, barely taller than she was, with beady black eyes and greasy hair. His movements were quick and purposeful, reminding Marian of a rat.

“The baron wants to see you, milady,” he told her as his fingers clenched painfully around her arm, digging into her flesh.

She didn’t reply. Instead, she kept her mouth firmly shut. She wouldn’t give Erik the satisfaction of hearing her fear. Marian prayed that the bandit leader had been wrong. That Baron Guilde did not want to take her for his wife. She shuddered at the thought.

Mistaking her repulsion for fear, Erik leaned in close as they climbed the stairs. “The baron’s got something special planned for you, milady,” he sneered. “Ain’t no fancy knight can save you now.”

He grinned in satisfaction as he felt her tremble at his words.

When they reached the Great Hall, Erik led her to the far end, where the baron sat in his makeshift throne. He pushed her to her knees and held her down with a hand clamped on her shoulder.

She looked up and glowered at Ramkin as he stood to the side. The sullen man’s arms were crossed over his chest. The fear had vanished from his face and was replaced with loathing as he stared her down.

“Now, now, Erik,” Guilde’s booming voice echoed throughout the hall. “We mustn’t harm Lady Marian. She’s our guest.”

Erik reached under her arm and hauled her to her feet.

Marian studied her abductor. He was a portly older man with long stringy hair and weedy whiskers peppering his upper lip. “You must be Baron Guilde,” she said brazenly.

“Ah. So, you’ve already heard of me,” he pouted. “Well, that isn’t fair, not at all. Introductions, when only one party is present, is bad form,” the baron admonished his minions.

“I regret to inform you, baron, that your efforts to wed me are in vain. I’m already married,” Marian said, her voice chilled with hatred.

Instead of the argument that Marian expected from her jailor, Guilde let out a thunderous belly laugh. “Marry you?” he asked as he wiped the tears of amusement from the corners of his eyes. “Heaven’s no! A meddling wife is the last thing I need.”

“Then, why am I here?”

“You are here, girl because I wish you to be so.”

Marian’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“The tale of your bravery has spread far and wide, my dear. A simple servant saving the life of Camelot’s king. And with magic, no less.”

“Am I some kind of trophy to you?”

In answer, Guilde motioned Erik to bring her closer.

“No,” he said as she was pushed to him. “You are here to heal me.”

Marian gagged as she got closer to the baron. The putrid smell of rotting flesh hung around him like thick fog. He was even more repulsive up close. Flecks of past meals littered his shirt, and his lips were stained with wine. His skin was blotchy and damp with sweat. He bared his yellowed teeth when he smirked at her, the smile never reaching his cold, vapid eyes.

He bent to pull up the legs of his trousers so that Marian could see his injuries. The baron’s shins were covered in festering sores that oozed a pale yellow liquid. Marian barely controlled her urge to vomit.

“These ulcers pain me greatly. I demand that you heal them.”

Marian was shocked. There was absolutely no way she could heal the vile man. She shook her head at him, angering the bloated baron.

“Are you defying me, girl?”

Marian took a step back, desperate for fresh air. “I am telling you, baron, that even if I wanted to, I couldn’t heal you. That’s not how it works.”

“Think on your words, girl. You are in a precarious position.”

“I cannot heal you, Baron Guilde.”

Tired of her insolence, Erik stepped up and back-handed her across the face, knocking her to the floor.

“You’ll not deny the baron, bitch!” he yelled.

Marian wiped the blood from her lip and glared at the rat. “No, Erik, I’ll not _heal_ the baron.”

Guilde’s patience had worn thin. “We’ll see if another night in the dungeon will make you more accommodating. I imagine if your hunger and thirst don’t drive you mad, then the vermin chewing on your toes will!”

Erik turned to his master as he pulled Marian up. “Can I beat her, baron?” he asked.

Baron Guilde nodded. “Only enough to teach her how to submit. I’ll not have her beaten to death, Erik. Do you hear me?”

“Yes, baron,” he said glumly. “I’ll not kill her yet.”

Marian’s eyes widened in panic. She struggled to get away as Erik hauled her from the Great Hall and led her back down to her cell.

“He’ll kill you, you know,” Ramkin said after she’d left.

“Who will kill me?”

“Her husband, Sir Gwaine of Camelot. When he sees her bloodied face, he’ll come after you.”

Guilde looked at him, unaffected by his prediction. “That’s assuming that I haven’t already disappeared by the time he finds her corpse.”

Ramkin dropped his arms to his sides and clenched his jaw. “You still plan on killing her, then?”

The baron laughed. “You’ve gone soft. Of course, she’ll have to die. I can’t have her identifying me to the King of Camelot, now can I?”

“I’m not soft, Guilde,” Ramkin gritted his teeth. “I am merely concerned about the retribution.”

“I really can’t see why you’re so worried about a few silly knights. This is Arthur, not Lot. The title of knight is just that. They are noblemen, not soldiers, Ramkin.”

“You’re not just a fool. You’re a damn fool. I’ll not stay here and be slaughtered, Guilde. You will pay me the rest that you owe me, and I’ll be on my way.”

“Yes, yes. I’ll give you your money,” he said as he patted down his jacket. “Now, where have I put that blasted purse?”

Ramkin sighed in irritation.

“Ah, yes, here it is!”

Ramkin started forward but was surprised when Guilde pulled a small crossbow from his pocket. It fit in one hand and was already loaded. He took aim, and before Ramkin could react, the bolt from Guilde’s weapon was already imbedded into his heart. Ramkin dropped to his knees and collapsed to the floor, dead.

“And they said it was too small to kill a man. Ha!” Guilde said as he looked at his new toy. He hid it away in his jacket and called for the lackeys to remove Ramkin’s body. “This killing business is a damn bloody nuisance if you ask me,” he said to no one in particular as the corpse was dragged from the hall.

888

Marian was lying on the grimy floor of her cell, battered and bruised, hardly able to move. Her face burned and throbbed. Erik had been precise in his thrashing, more punches than not landing directly on her head. Blood had trickled from her nose and mouth, eventually drying before she could wipe it away. The warm fluid had oozed down her face from a cut above her eye, leaving a crusty, dark path over her cheek.

He demanded she comply with the baron’s commands, but still she refused. She had tried to explain that her magic was tied to her heart. She told Erik that there wasn’t any way she could obey, but her pleas fell on deaf ears.

When he wasn’t striking her face, the sycophant was kicking her back and legs. Bile rose to her throat when she saw the look on his face as he hit her. He was gleeful. The man actually got some sort of sick pleasure from inflicting pain.

Her hip ached, tender from the bruises forming on her flesh. She turned over to her other side and faced the damp stone wall. Curled up against herself, she thanked the powers that be that Erik had left the front of her alone. Marian had been worried that he would see through any efforts she made to protect her belly.

No one knew that Marian was once again with child. Not even Gwaine. Hell, she’d only just realized it the week before and used Gaius’s wheat and barley seed test to confirm it.

Oh, how she wished she had told him. She’d wanted to wait until they’d had the chance to talk alone, but it’d been a busy week for them both. She wondered if his anger at her would subside knowing she’d at least been able to protect one of their children. That is if the baby survived.

None of her worries would matter, though. She was convinced that she would die before Gwaine reached her. The pain in her body was so great that the thought of death was almost appealing. Of course, she wasn’t even sure now that Gwaine would come. He might be too disgusted at her for not protecting Rosie, and he’d give her up for dead.

A sob escaped her at the thought.

“No,” she whimpered, “he loves me still.” Fresh tears rolled down her face, leaving trails through the dried blood. “Please,” she pleaded into the darkness. “Please let him still love me. Please let him come.”

Marian cried herself to sleep, cold and alone and very afraid.

888

The sun rose the next morning, painting golden rays of light across the bright blue sky. A good omen in Gwaine’s view. He didn’t know when he had become superstitious, but he wasn’t about to shy away from any supernatural comforts now that Marian’s life hung in the balance.

Gwaine, Merlin, and the rest of the knights came to the edge of the forest that surrounded the old fortress. They could see several men on the battlements, guarding the drawbridge. The guards weren’t dressed in the usual armor, though. Instead, they were wearing ordinary garb, tunics, jackets, and leather trousers. They weren’t even paying much attention to their duties, instead, gathering in groups and laughing.

Though these men seemed untrained, the knights didn’t make the mistake of underestimating them. They came up with a plan of attack with the expectation that they would battle skilled fighters.

“Percival, you take Sagramore across the moat to the east wing. The wall looks weak there,” Leon ordered.

“One punch from me will tear it down,” Percival grinned.

“Elyan will come with me to the west. If we attack on two fronts, we can split the guards, making it easier to overpower them.”

“That way, Gwaine can easily find Marian without running into trouble?” Sagramore asked.

“Exactly,” Leon nodded, pleased that the young knight was learning. “Merlin, you go with Gwaine. He may need you if Marian has been hurt.”

Gwaine clenched his fists at Leon’s words. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself to calm his anger, that he needed a clear head.

“We’ll wait for your signal,” Merlin agreed.

The others took off to execute their plan, grabbing crossbows and bolts as Merlin and Gwaine waited. Gwaine was wound tight, ready to spring into action at any moment.

“We’ll find her, Gwaine,” Merlin said, attempting to comfort his friend.

“I know.”

“She’ll be alright.”

“She’d better be.”

He was short with Merlin, though he didn’t mean it. The warlock understood that Gwaine was impatient to get in there and find his wife. Hell, Merlin was worried too, for Marian was a sister to him.

“It looks like the guards aren’t wearing armor. You might be a bit noticeable in your chainmail. If we’re going to sneak in without a fight, you’ll need to take it off,” Merlin advised.

Gwaine simply nodded, removing his armor and padded undershirt. He buckled his belt around his tunic just as Merlin saw Leon’s signal.

“There it is,” Merlin said as one of the guards fell from the battlement.

“Let’s go,” Gwaine ordered as they both stood from their hiding place and snuck into the fortress.

There were only two ways into the building from the courtyard. One was at the top of a long staircase, the wooden doors half off their hinges and knocking in the wind. The other was beneath the stairs, thick oak fortified with iron fittings.

“I bet anything that leads to a dungeon,” Merlin guessed.

“Let’s try our luck there first,” Gwaine agreed.

When they got to the door, it was locked. Gwaine tried to break it open with his shoulder, but it wouldn’t budge. There was no way the knight would be able to force it open. Merlin, however, just smiled as his eyes glowed. The door burst from its frame and flew across the courtyard.

“That’s handy,” Gwaine said as he stepped inside and went down the wet stone stairs into the black below.

The stairs led them into pitch blackness, not even a torch had been lit.

“Leoht,” Merlin’s eyes glowed, and a ball of light appeared, breaking the darkness.

They were in a dungeon underneath the fortress. The stale air reeked of mold and a feral musky scent that hung about the room. On the north wall, there were three thick wooden doors. Gwaine went to the first to look through the small window but could see nothing inside.

He went to the second door and looked. Again, nothing.

“Where is she?” he asked as he rushed to the third door and peered through the bars in the window. He saw a form in the back corner of the cell.

“Marian?” he called out, hoping for some sign that the figure was his wife and that she was alive. “I can’t tell if it’s her,” he said panicked.

“Tospringe,” Merlin whispered.

The lock on the door clicked open. Gwaine walked into the cell, the ball of light floating behind him. He saw Marian curled up in the corner of the dirty cell.

“Marian?” His voice was soft as he cautiously approached her.

Heart pounding, he prayed to whatever god above who’d listen that he wasn’t too late. Gwaine knelt beside her and reached for her shoulder, gently pulling her over to face him.

Gwaine gasped, and his heart broke at the sight of her. Her face was bruised beyond recognition. Her left eye was swollen shut, and her lips were cracked. There was dried blood on her brow and below her nose. It took everything in him to remain calm.

“My God, what have they done?” he whispered.

She stared at him, her uninjured eye wide in disbelief.

“No,” she spoke softly in a raspy voice.

Gwaine frowned at her, confused. “No?”

“You’re not real. You didn’t come for me,” she replied.

“It’s me, sweetheart. It’s your Gwaine,” he tried to reason with her. When he reached out to touch her face, she cowered from him.

Shaking her head, she began to cry. “Gwaine isn’t mine anymore. He hates me.”

“Marian, love, you’re confused. I could never hate you. I love you more than anything in the world.”

“He blames me.” She was sure they’d already had this conversation, that he’d left her to rot in the cell. “He told me to go to Hell for what I did.”

Gwaine looked to Merlin for help. She wasn’t making any sense.

The warlock stepped up next to him and crouched down so she could see him. “Marian, we’ve only just got here,” he told her.

“Merlin?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” he said, smiling brightly at her.

“Gwaine doesn’t love me anymore, Merlin. He’s left me for dead,” she sobbed, flinching when Merlin tried to touch her shoulder.

He bent closer and looked into her good eye.

“She’s not completely awake,” he said to Gwaine. “I think she’s caught in a nightmare.”

Unable to bear any more anguish, he grabbed ahold of his wife and pulled her to his chest.

“You’re safe, beautiful. I’ve got you,” he said soothingly as he caressed her back. “I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you, sweetheart.”

Marian wept in his arms, clinging to him. “Oh, God, Gwaine, it’s really you. You came for me. Please don’t hate me.”

Gwaine kissed the top of her head and rocked her. “Of course, I came. What could I possibly hate you for, my darling?”

“They killed Rosie. I couldn’t… It was my fault. I didn’t protect her. Our daughter is dead because I didn’t do my duty. I didn’t keep her safe.”

Gwaine took her face into his hands and pulled back so she could see him. His thumbs wiped at the fresh tears streaming down her face. “Rosie is fine, love. She’s alive.”

“But… I heard them! They said they sent a man!” Her hoarse cries echoed through the dungeon.

“He’s dead. The man they sent after our daughter is dead, and Rosie is alive. She did as you said and came to find me. Rosie is safe with the king and queen as we speak. Probably talking their heads off,” he chuckled.

“Rosie’s alive? She’s alive!” she laughed through her tears. The glazed expression melted from her face, and she smiled. “You saw her? You actually did see her?”

Gwaine nodded. “She ran from the forest to get me just like you told her. I held her in my arms, Marian, and there wasn’t a scratch on her.”

She suddenly sobered. Gwaine watched the transformation as his wife went from a frightened prisoner to an enraged mother. Her eyes flashed in anger. “I’m going to kill him, Gwaine. You won’t be able to stop me,” she said, her voice suddenly hard.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, beautiful,” he said, smiling as he brushed her hair from her face. “Now, let’s do something about this blood.”

“Use this,” Merlin said as he took his kerchief off and handed it to the knight. He went to the table outside the cell, and picking up an empty cup, he filled it by magic.

Gwaine took the cup when Merlin offered it and dipped the kerchief into the water. He began to wipe the blood and dirt from Marian’s face. While his touch was gentle, his jaw clenched in anger at the amount of bruising and swelling on her face.

When he was done, his eyes followed his hand as his fingers whispered across her collarbone. He moved the collar of her dress slightly to expose part of her shoulder. “Where else did the bastard hurt you?” he asked abruptly, seeing more bruises marking her pale skin.

Marian winced at the vehemence in his voice.

“Nearly everywhere,” she replied.

With a herculean effort, Gwaine tried to control his temper. These men had not only kidnapped her but beat the hell out of her. And despite her initial confusion, she was holding up better than most. The fury in her eyes rivaled his own, her wrath would perhaps be even greater. His Marian was fierce, indeed.

“What is the name of the son of a bitch who did this?”

“It was Erik. Baron Guilde’s right-hand man,” she replied. “He’s a sick fucker, Gwaine. He…” she swallowed hard and closed her eyes at the memory. “He smiled the entire time. He… savored… each blow.”

“What did they want with you?” Merlin asked, giving Gwaine time to calm down.

“Initially, I was told that the baron wanted me for a wife, but they were wrong. He wanted me to heal him.”

“Heal him? What’s wrong with him?” Gwaine asked, finally pulled from his fog of rage.

“He has ulcers on his legs. They apparently cause him a great deal of pain.”

“And he had his man do this when you wouldn’t heal him?”

She nodded, keeping her gaze on the floor so that her husband wouldn’t see her eyes brimming with new tears. “I told him I couldn’t heal him. I tried to explain. But they wouldn’t listen.”

When she lifted her head to him, Gwaine gently kissed her battered lips. “None of this is your fault, Marian.”

“Please, Gwaine. Never let me go,” she whispered, leaning into his embrace.

“I’ll need to for us to get out of here, love. But I promise, once we’re home safe, I never will.”

“We need to go,” Merlin said. “I can hear battle above stairs.”

“Can you walk?” Gwaine asked her.

When she nodded, he helped her to stand, holding onto her waist until she found her balance.

“Promise me, Merlin,” Gwaine started as they started toward the stairs.

“What?”

“That when we find that bastard Guilde, you’ll let me be the one to kill him.”

“I promise.”

888

The Great Hall had erupted into chaos. Guilde cowered behind his throne as twenty men protected him. The knights were surrounded, fighting valiantly against Guilde’s men.

“Stay here,” Gwaine said as he pushed Marian into a corner by the door.

“But I can help.”

“Marian, please stay put. You’re in no condition to fight. I thought I’d lost you once, I can’t do it again,” he pleaded. “Promise me.”

“I will,” she nodded, and she then pulled him close for a quick, but searing kiss.

“I love you,” he said before he jumped into the battle.

Marian watched as five knights and one wizard fought twenty men. Each knight was battling at least two at once and winning. Merlin stayed back to watch the combat. The distance gave him an advantage. By using his magic, he evened the odds whenever he saw one of the knights in trouble.

Guilt tore at her as she watched her family fight to rescue her. It was because of her that they were there. It was because of her that their lives were in danger. She’d never be able to live with herself if any of them came to harm.

She bit her bottom lip, scanning the battle. Her gaze followed Guilde as he tried to edge around the hall. He had pulled a small crossbow from his jacket and loaded a bolt. Just as he prepared to aim, Percival bumped into the baron, knocking the unusual weapon from his grasp. As the fight continued, one of the men stepped on the bow, breaking it.

“Damn!” Guilde bellowed. He looked around, and deciding he was in too much danger, he looked for a way to make his escape.

Marian was about to confront the bulging coward, but a movement in the corner of her eye caught her attention. Erik was scurrying along the wall, sword in hand, and eying her husband’s back. Gwaine was so focused on the men in front of him that he didn’t notice the danger looming behind.

Marian quickly moved from her corner, picking up a sword and dagger from beside one of the dead men. She silently ran toward Gwaine, her adrenaline pumping. When she saw Erik raise his sword to stab Gwaine in the back, she leapt forward. Her blade crossed with Erik’s, blocking his attack.

“Don’t you dare touch my husband!” she yelled as she gathered all her strength to push the rat back.

“Ah, so this is the famous knight of Camelot, is it? Don’t worry, love. I’ll make sure he joins you in death.”

“I don’t think so, rat!”

He was unscrupulous as he fought her, trying every trick he could think of to distract her. And he was skilled.

But Marian was better.

Even with only one good eye, Marian answered him swing by swing and blow by blow. She’d been training with her husband for nearly five years. What she lacked in physical strength, she more than made up for in speed and skill.

Erik growled in frustration as he was knocked back again and again.

“I’m gonna cut you, milady. All over your pretty little face. When I’m done with you, that husband of yours will just as soon vomit as to look at your ugly, disfigured face.”

“You’re a sick man, Erik. Sick and small,” she goaded. “Tell me, why did Guilde hire another man to kidnap me and not have his _trusted_ _and loyal_ servant do it?” she asked as their swords continued to clash. “I’ll tell you why Erik. Baron Guilde sees you as nothing. He doesn’t trust you. You’re just another useless lackey who isn’t fit to lick his boots.”

Her taunts had the desired effect. Erik was so enraged that he became even more undisciplined, taking chances and making mistakes. Several times Marian was able to hit his sword hand, almost knocking the weapon from him.

Infuriated with the turn the fight had taken, Erik tried his hand at provoking Marian.

“You should let your husband do the fightin’, milady. This is no place for a weakling of a woman. You’re just playin’ a part in a man’s word, you are. And when I’m done with you and your husband, I’m gonna go after your kid.”

She gasped and nearly lost the grip on her blade.

“That’s right. I heard everythin’. You and he’s got a little brat back in Camelot. How’s it gonna feel going to your grave knowin’ that you’re the reason she’s gonna die?”

Erik grinned. He was beginning to take control of their battle.

“How long will it take to wallop the brat until she breaks? One, maybe two punches? How hard do you think I’ll have to hit her to make the life drain from her pretty little angelic face?” he laughed.

Marian snapped.

Swinging like a wild woman, she screamed in rage as she delivered blow after powerful blow.

Hearing her, Gwaine looked to where he’d left her. He panicked when he saw she was no longer in the corner and frantically searched the room. When he saw her off to the side, lost in her own battle, he quickly dispatched of his opponent and fought to get to her.

“Marian!”

She spun their swords in a dance for dominance, and once she’d pushed his blade to the side, she dealt her fatal blow.

Gwaine stopped as the man dropped to his knees.

“Killed… by a bloody woman…” Erik wheezed before falling to the floor, a dagger embedded in his gut.

“No one threatens my family!” she yelled as the life left his eyes.

Marian dropped her weapon, exhausted, and turned to see Gwaine in the middle of the room, staring at her. She thought he might be upset that she had broken her promise, but instead of anger, the corners of his mouth twitched up in a proud grin.

Sagramore watched Marian as he fought off his own aggressors. Though he was impressed with her skill, he was concerned that she’d spent all her energy. She wasn’t even paying attention to the battles going on around her. And neither was her husband. Neither saw the large man charging toward her with a dagger in his hand.

The young knight called out a warning to them both and ran to Marian. Just as the assailant reached her and thrust his dagger forward, Sagramore jumped in his path, the blade sinking into his leg.

Gwaine snapped from his daze and turned to run the large man through.

“Sagramore!” Marian called out. As she began to kneel next to him, she was pulled back by a sweaty, swollen hand.

“Stay back! All of you!” The last of Guilde’s men dropped to the floor dead as the baron shouted. He had Marian pulled up against his chest, backing away slowly, and holding a knife against her throat.

“Think about what you’re doing, Guilde,” Gwaine warned, one hand in the air in front of him, the other gripping his sword. “You’re outnumbered. There’s no way you get out of this alive if you harm her.”

“Ha! There’s no way I’m letting the wench go until you’ve all gone from here.” To emphasize his threat, Guilde pressed the point of the dagger and nicked Marian’s skin.

“Guilde!” Gwaine yelled when his wife winced.

“Can you get him, Merlin?” Leon asked quietly.

“Not without hurting Marian, too,” the warlock answered loud enough for Gwaine to hear.

Percival and Elyan stalked around the edge of the action, looking for a way to pull her from the baron’s grasp without endangering her.

Leon went to Sagramore and helped him from the floor.

The baron looked wildly from one man to the next. “I said stay back!” he shouted as he backed up, taking Marian with him.

“You’ve no one else to fight for you, baron. Nowhere else to go,” Gwaine tried to reason. His voice was calm and collected, his face impassive. Marian knew, though, that inside, Gwaine was battling to control his rage. “Let her go.”

“You’re awfully concerned for a mere woman. I’ll pay you for her. Yes, that’s it. What is the bitch worth to you? One hundred gold pieces? Two? I’ll double it if you let me take her and go.”

Blood heated Gwaine’s face, his nostrils flared, and his voice turned hard.

“She’s not for sale, Guilde.”

“Nonsense! Everything is for sale, knight. Oh, yes, I know exactly who you are,” Guilde crowed. “And I wonder what King Lot would think of Camelot’s knights invading Essetir? Yes, yes, this will do nicely. There’s much profit to gain in a war.”

His words became desperate, and his movements erratic.

“Yes, you take my offer, or else I’ll implicate Camelot’s knights in the death of Sir Ramkin and these fine men of Essetir. Lot will be forced to retaliate. The wench will heal me regardless, and then I can go far away from all of you. Yes, yes. I might even go north and see what treasure lies in the land of the savages. They paint their skin blue, you know. Very uncivilized. I’ll let her go, of course. After she’s healed me, that is. Yes, it’s all worked out.”

He was rambling now, trying any tactic he could to convince them to let him leave with Marian.

“So, what’s it going to be, knight? Are you going to let me take the wench and go?”

Gwaine gave no reply.

Guilde fidgeted under the knight’s unrelenting glare.

“No woman is worth passing up a fortune! With the price I’m willing to pay, you can buy as many women as you want to replace the whore.”

Marian grinned, knowing what was going to happen next. Guilde had pricked Gwaine’s temper for the last time. As soon as the knight opened his mouth to shout his battle cry, she kicked behind her, hitting the tender sores on Guilde’s legs.

The baron howled in pain, dropping his dagger, and let go of his hold on her.

She spun out of the way just as Gwaine reached them and plunged his blade into Baron Guilde’s belly.

“That is my wife you’re insulting!” he roared, pushing the blade in further.

Guilde’s eyes widened in disbelief as blood poured from his wound. When Gwaine pulled his weapon from the flesh, the baron crumpled to the floor, dead.

Marian swayed on her feet, her adrenaline spent. Gwaine dropped his sword and caught her before she hit the floor.

“Marian?” he asked, concerned.

“I’m alright, my love. Just tired. I’ve had a hell of a week, you know,” she smiled up at him.

“Me too,” he replied grinning. He bent his head and kissed her softly.

Gwaine kept a hand on her waist as he reached behind her knees and lifted her into his arms. Marian wrapped her arms around his neck, and leaning her head against his shoulder, they left the fortress.

Elyan and Percival went ahead of the rest to fetch the horses. When they reached the courtyard, Leon helped Sagramore onto his mount.

“That looks bad,” Leon said, nodding his head to the wound in Sagramore’s leg. “You should let Marian look at it.”

“It’s fine,” Sagramore said, clenching his teeth. “It just stings a little.”

Leon nodded though he thought the knight was lying to save face. He’d noticed how hard the man fought to hide any weakness from the others. He believed that Sagramore was trying to prove himself worthy of being a Knight of Camelot.

“You fought honorably, Sagramore,” Leon praised. “I’m impressed with your skill and your selflessness.”

Sagramore didn’t know how to react to such praise. He was never one to seek recognition for doing his duty. Nodding uncomfortably, he quickly changed the subject.

“Lady Marian’s injuries… will she be alright, do you think?”

“My wife will be fine,” Gwaine said abruptly as he climbed into his saddle behind her and settled her against his chest.

“Be nice, Gwaine. He saved me, remember?” Marian whispered to her husband.

Gwaine rolled his eyes but did as his wife asked. “I appreciate your concern, Sagramore.”

They rode out of the fortress and over the drawbridge toward the forest. “What about the bodies? Should we have buried them?” Sagramore asked.

“The fortress will be their tomb,” Merlin replied as he turned his horse toward the stone. With a flash of his eyes and a wave of his hands, the stone fortress toppled to the ground, burying the sins of the vile baron and his men.

Sagramore looked on in shock, surprised by the power the warlock possessed. He’d never seen such raw power come from any man.

“He looks like he’s about to faint,” Elyan laughed as he passed the young knight.

“Don’t be such a girl, Sagramore,” Percival teased.

“Close your mouth, or you’ll catch a fly,” Leon chuckled.

Sagramore shut his mouth and turned to follow the others into the forest. He tried to be annoyed by the ribbing, but he didn’t have it in him. Instead, he grinned.

Looking for a place to camp for the night, they came across a clearing just as the sun started to set. Gwaine jumped down from his horse and gathered Marian into his arms as the others were dismounting.

Sagramore swayed on the back of his horse. The color drained from his face, and sweat began to bead on his brow.

“Sagramore!” Elyan yelled as the young knight slipped from the saddle and fell to the ground.

Merlin and Percival were the first to reach him. One look at the man and they knew his injury was a lot worse than he’d led them to believe.

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” Merlin told the others as they gathered nearby.

“I’m fine,” Sagramore said through gritted teeth. He tried to sit up, but the world spun, and he fell back.

Marian jumped down from Gwaine’s arms and rushed to Sagramore’s side.

The young knight pushed her hands away when she tried to look at his leg. “It’s alright, my lady. You must look after yourself.”

“Let me help,” she said softly. “Gwaine?” she asked over her shoulder.

Knowing what she was about to do, her husband came up behind her and knelt on the ground.

She placed her hands on Sagramore’s leg.

“Purhhaele dolgbenn!”

A golden light sprung from her body and surrounded them. His leg tingled where he had been stabbed, and warmth flowed through him. He looked down and watched as the wound slowly closed.

The light dimmed, and looking up at Marian, Sagramore gasped when he saw a dark patch of blood spread on her skirts in the same place his injury had been.

She fell back into her husband’s arms, her eyes closed. Gwaine held her as the swelling around her eye faded, and her bruises disappeared. When it was over, she looked as peaceful and beautiful as an angel resting against her husband’s chest.

Sagramore couldn’t believe what he’d seen. He knew about Marian’s magic, of course, but he’d never witnessed something so pure, so beautiful, so selfless.

“Now he really looks like he’s going to faint,” Elyan chuckled.

Marian opened her eyes and smiled at the young knight, pleased to see that he had healed.

Gwaine crooked his finger under her chin and twisted her face to his, kissing her tenderly.

“Let’s set up camp,” Leon ordered, helping Sagramore to his feet.

As the others began to clear a site for the firepit, Gwaine held Marian, placing soft kisses around her face, and holding her tight.

“I’ll take the first watch, Sagramore offered.

That night Sagramore sat at the edge of the small clearing, watching the others sleep. The camp was quiet save for the crackling of the fire.

He turned his gaze to Gwaine and Marian. She was stretched in her husband’s lap as he leaned back against a tree, cradling her against his chest. Her arms were wound around his waist, and her head was tucked under his chin. Both were sleeping soundly.

Sagramore guessed that this was what true love looked like. He watched them sleep, wondering if he’d ever love or be loved. He wasn’t jealous, of course, but he did envy the peace and security they found in each other.

Unable to stop watching the lovers in their slumber, he didn’t look when Merlin sat next to him.

“I don’t understand,” the knight muttered.

“What don’t you understand?” Merlin asked him.

“I know how her magic works. We all do. She can only heal those she cares for.”

“That’s true.”

“Then how the hell did she heal me?”

Merlin smiled and laid a hand on Sagramore’s shoulder. “You are worthy of being a Knight of Camelot. And the Knights of Camelot are brothers.”

Sagramore nodded, still not understanding.

“You are a brother to her husband, Sagramore. Therefore, you are a brother to Marian. She was able to heal you because she loves you.”

Merlin left his side and settled in for the night.

“Oh, God, Gwaine’s going to be insufferable now, isn’t he?”

The warlock chuckled to himself. “Yes, Sagramore. Very much so, I’m afraid.”

888

Marian and Gwaine were summoned to the council chamber as soon as they’d arrived home. Gwen assured Marian that Rosie was fine, she and Borre were wearing out their nurse with a game of hide-and-seek.

“I promise, Marian, your daughter is well. She has missed her parents, but she doesn’t seem traumatized by what happened,” the queen said as they walked to the council chamber.

“Thank you for taking care of her, Gwen. I’ve been so worried that she’d have nightmares.”

Gwen chuckled. “No, she hasn’t had nightmares. She’d have to actually sleep to have nightmares.”

“She hasn’t slept?” Marian asked, concerned.

Gwen shook her head, smiling. “Not much. She convinced Marta that you give her an apple tart before bed every night.”

Gwaine chuckled from behind them.

“And Marta believed her?” Marian asked, rolling her eyes.

Gwen nodded. “I believe she felt sorry for Rosie, considering what she’d been through, and gave her anything she wanted. The child has been wild on sweets both day and night.”

“Your daughter is a troublemaker, Gwaine. She takes after you, not me,” Marian said, looking over her shoulder at her husband.

“She is that, beautiful,” he replied, unable to contain his mirth.

They took their seats when they entered the council chamber. The king sat at the table with Gwaine and Marian to one side of him, and Gwen, Merlin, and Gaius on the other.

Marian dreaded having to relive her experience. When he noticed her stiffen at some of Arthur’s questions, Gwaine placed his hand over hers and gave it a squeeze.

Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to believe what he was hearing.

“What do you mean dead, Gwaine?”

“I mean just that, sire. When we came across the man in the forest, he was slumped against a tree, the life gone from him.”

“It was magic, Arthur. No marks, no sign of a struggle,” Merlin added.

“You say Rosie was the only one there, though. Is that right, Marian?”

“As far as I know,” she shuddered as she remembered. Gwaine pulled her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles in comfort. “They put a sack over my head, but before that, the leader, Duncan, commanded one of his men to…” she choked on the words, “to kill her.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.

“Rosie told me the man grabbed her and she screamed. She said he then flew like a bird,” Gwaine told the king.

“How can a small child such as Rosie kill a full-grown man?”

“We’ve seen it before, sire,” Gaius spoke up. “When Mordred was but a child,” the physician reminded him.

“Oh, God!” Marian exclaimed. “What if she… oh please, Gaius, tell me she won’t turn out like Mordred!”

Gwaine put his arm around her shoulder, and pulling her against his side, he kissed her temple. “Calm yourself, sweetheart,” he soothed, brushing a loose lock of hair behind her ear. “Our Rosie is nothing like Mordred. Or Morgana, for that matter. She has a good heart.”

“It may turn out to be nothing at all,” Gaius said, looking pointedly at Merlin.

“Gaius is right, Marian,” Merlin said. “She hasn’t shown any other outward signs of having magic. Perhaps it’s something left from her birth, and it’ll fade away.”

“What do we do if she does, though?” Marian asked.

Gwen looked at her husband as she spoke to the distraught mother. “Magic is no longer outlawed, remember?” Arthur nodded his agreement, and Gwen turned to Marian and Gwaine, smiling softly. “If she does have magic, we will deal with it. Merlin and Gaius can instruct her, help her control her magic. Both you and Gwaine will raise her with your principles and your good hearts. She will be tutored along with Borre by the most learned of men. Rosie will be surrounded by knowledge and love, Marian. I give you my word.”

Marian reached across the table and took the queen’s hand. “Thank you, Gwen.”

Suddenly, the door to the chamber opened with a bang, and two small children burst in, their nurse panting behind them.

“Sorry, sire, the little imps got away from me,” she apologized.

The boy ran to the king, climbing into his father’s lap and settling as if he were in charge.

“It’s alright, Marta. Thank you,” Arthur dismissed the long-suffering nurse and smiled. He bent to place a kiss on top of his son’s wild curls.

The little girl stopped running and looked around the table. When she landed on Marian, her eyes widened.

“Mummy!” Rosie called out before running to Marian and jumping into her lap.

“Oh, my little angel!” Marian exclaimed as she buried her face in Rosie’s hair. She held onto her daughter, giving her kisses and squeezes. “I missed you so much!”

Rosie pulled back and watched Marian as tears rolled down her mother’s face.

“Don’t cry, bootiful,” the little girl said, patting Marian’s face, mimicking her father.

Marian laughed as she pulled Rosie in for another hug. “Right you are, my darling.”

Rosie turned to her father and made the climb from one parent’s lap to the other. “You saved mummy, da!” she held onto his neck and kissed him.

“I did, petal. With help from your uncles, mind you.”

“Mummy is safe forever now?”

“Rosie, my father’s knights protect everyone,” Borre said, knowingly.

“Nuh-uh, Borre.”

“Uh-huh! They’re knights! They have a code!”

“Nuh-uh! You told me so. You told me they would get the Yew Witch for taking my mummy!”

_Yew witch?_ Marian mouthed to her husband. Gwaine sighed and shook his head. He’d explain later.

“That _is_ protecting, Rosie!”

“No, it’s not, Borre! Knights can’t protect the Yew Witch _and_ get her!”

“Don’t be silly. They don’t protect baddies,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“You said they protect everyone, Borre! You did!”

“I did not!”

“Uh-huh!”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Uh-huh!”

“Enough,” the king laughed. “That’s enough. Borre, apologize to Rosie for telling her tales to scare her.”

“But father! The Yew Witch is real!”

Arthur gave his son a stern look.

“Sorry, Rosie,” Borre said, his head lowered.

“Rosie,” the king turned to her. “My knights will always protect you. And when they are Borre’s knights, they will protect you still.”

Rosie nodded to Arthur, satisfied that she had won the argument.

“Sire, you wanted to see me?”

Everyone turned as Sagramore entered the chamber.

“Yes, Sagramore, please come in. I have another duty for you if you’re up for it.”

“Who is that?” Rosie whispered loud enough for everyone to hear her.

“That’s Sagramore, one of my father’s knights,” Borre whispered proudly.

“He’s a Round Knight like my da?” she didn’t bother to keep her voice down anymore.

Borre nodded.

Rosie jumped from her father’s lap and ran over to the sullen knight, looking up at him, her arms outstretched expectantly.

Sagramore didn’t know what he should do. He’d never been around children, even when he was one. He looked to Gwaine for help, but the infuriating man only gave him a nod and a smirk.

“Up!” Rosie demanded.

Sagramore picked her up under her arms and held her away from his body. Merlin got his attention and mimed cradling her to his chest.

The knight rolled his eyes and pulled her closer, bracing her bottom with his arm.

Rosie used her hands to turn his face to hers. He was about to protest, but the serious look in the child’s eyes made the objection die in his throat.

“You went with my da?” she asked.

He nodded, his focus solely on the little girl in his arms.

“You bringed back my mummy?”

Again, he nodded.

The severe look on her face melted into a bright smile.

“Thank you for saving my mummy!” she exclaimed as she leaned forward to kiss his cheek and then jumped down from him.

Sagramore looked at her in shock as she ran over to Gaius and climbed into his lap, watching the knight closely as she sucked on her thumb.

“She…” he couldn’t finish. Her words and her kiss had been so pure, so innocent. Sagramore had never felt any sort of love or admiration before. He touched his cheek as he watched the child, and his heart softened.

Rosie plucked her thumb from her mouth and smiled at him. “You’re family now,” she stated.

Tears came to Sagramore’s eyes, though he dared not let them fall. For the first time in his life, he had a family.

888

Gwaine stayed behind as Marian and Rosie left the council chamber. They walked hand in hand back to their chambers on the third floor.

“Nurse tolded us to stay in the castle, but Borre knew a secret way out. Do you want to know the secret, mummy?”

“Yes,” Marian answered. Rosie had been talking nearly non-stop as they walked through the corridors.

“I can’t tell you, silly mummy! It’s a secret!”

Marian chuckled. “And what did you do out in the town?”

“We went to the market and found Alex and Teddy,” she explained.

Marian frowned when Rosie mentioned the Felton twins. They were much older than both Rosie and Borre, and therefore rougher when they played.

“And did you play with the twins?”

“We didn’t,” Rosie answered gleefully. “I distracted them so Borre could tie their bootlaces together. Then we sunged taunts at them to get them to chase. And do you know what happened, mummy?”

“No, little love, what happened?”

“They both felled on their face in the mudpuddle! Isn’t that funny, mummy?” Rosie chortled.

Marian laughed heartily. She tried to calm her mirth so she could instruct her daughter on the naughtiness of what they had done, but Marian couldn’t manage it. It seemed as if the Felton twins had finally gotten their just deserts.

They arrived at their chambers, and when she opened the door, Marian was greeted with a nice, hot bath waiting by the fire. She told her daughter to go play in the other room while she bathed. Rosie kissed her mother obediently and ran to her room, excited to plan her next adventure.

After her bath, Marian felt cleaner than she had in at least a week. She dressed in her nightdress and went to fetch Rosie from her room.

“Now, little love, I hear you have been telling tales to your nurse,” Marian said as they sat eating a small supper.

Rosie didn’t deny it. She grinned. “I have, mummy. Nurse said I should have what I need, so I wouldn’t be sad that you and da were away.”

“And you decided that you needed sweets? Is that it?” Marian said with an eyebrow raised.

Rosie's eyes were large and round, filled with crocodile tears, and her bottom lip stuck out. With her chin trembling and her brows knitted, she looked genuinely pathetic. “It’s true, mummy. I was sad ‘cos I didn’t have any of your sweet kisses to wish me goodnight,” she finished, letting her phony tears fall.

Marian rolled her eyes at her daughter’s performance. It was no wonder Marta let her get away with anything. Marian was the only one who was immune to Rosie’s phony tears.

She reached over and tickled the small girl under her arms. “I’m on to you, little one!” she laughed.

The heartrending expression melted from Rosie’s face as she burst into a fit of giggles when her mother picked her up and threw her over her shoulder.

“Now, it’s time to sleep.”

“Story! I need a story!” Rosie called out, giggling as Marian took her into her room and closed the door.

888

Marian left her daughter’s room nearly an hour later. Rosie had been insistent that her mother tell at least three long tales before she’d even think about going to sleep. The child was out before Marian had finished the second story.

The door clicked shut just as Gwaine stood from his bath. She turned and watched the bathwater cascade down his chest, diverging as it reached the thick curls below his navel. Blushing, she bit her lip, her gaze devouring his nakedness.

He was as beautiful as a Greek god, muscled and fit, and his sun-kissed skin glowed. The dark hair scattered along his chest, tapering down to his navel and straight to the coarse hair above his sex. She couldn’t take her eyes off his manhood, watching as the thick member slowly lengthened. Turning a deep red, it stood hard as it filled with blood, saluting her, honoring her, ready for her.

Gwaine’s shaft twitched in greeting as his wife moved her eyes over him. It had been several days since they’d made love, and his body was making his desire known.

After she’d been taken from him, he’d felt the overwhelming need to take her, to claim her. He hated this feeling of ownership, his wife wasn’t property, no one owned her. But his possessive nature had taken control. He needed to shout to the world that she belonged to him and only him.

He stalked over to his wife, not even bothering to dry his body, and gathered her into his arms.

“I need you, Gwaine. Make me feel safe again.”

Her voice was so soft, he wasn’t sure he’d actually heard her speak.

Their mouths met, gently at first. His lips moved over hers slowly, his tongue caressing her bottom lip. When she opened to him, he plunged his tongue inside, tasting her.

Soon the kiss became hungry and impatient. Their tongues engaged in an erotic battle for dominance, thrusting and stroking, as she clung to his back. The groan started in the back of his throat, but by the time it left his lips, it had heightened into a desperate moan.

Marian moved against him, desperate to feel his strength, his power, to have him enfold her in his embrace, keeping her safe from the evil in the world. Men had tried to take her from her family, away from everyone she knew and loved. She needed Gwaine to claim her, to possess her. Marian needed to lose what little control she still had and give herself over to him. She needed to feel protected.

Gwaine walked her backward, lifting her up onto the table. He moved between her legs and captured her mouth as his hand worked the hem of her nightdress up over her thighs. He caressed the silky curls hiding her sex, and when he dipped his fingers in, he felt her arousal pooling against his hand.

Marian sighed as he pleasured her, the warmth starting to build at her core. Her heart pounding in her chest, she rocked against his hand in a steady rhythm. She threaded her fingers through his wet locks, holding his head to her neck as he nibbled her skin.

Gwaine fisted the back of her hair in his other hand, his fingers tangling in the honey curls, and pulled her head back to expose her throat. He trailed hot, wet kisses down to the swell of her breasts. Moving her nightdress to the side with his nose, he released one of her pale fleshy mounds and caught her darkened nipple in his mouth, suckling the rosy bud erect.

“Bedroom?” she asked, the deep purr of her voice nearly sending him over.

“No time,” he said, his voice muffled in the smooth skin of her breasts.

In one quick movement, he pulled her to the edge of the table and buried himself into her welcoming sheath. One hand dug into the flesh of her hips, and the other still tugged her head back, fingers wound through her hair, keeping her in place as he pulled from her and then plunged in again. He bent low and bit at her shoulder and neck as he thrust in and out and in and out.

Her legs wrapped around him, her thighs holding him close.

Sweat, musk, and the scent of her arousal swirled in the air around them.

Gwaine’s primal need suddenly took over.

“Mine,” he growled against her skin, driving into her.

The slippery succulent sounds of his cock pumping…

The sharp intake of breath as he quickened their pace…

The creak of the table as he rocked against her…

Her whimpers and moans, begging for release…

His ragged breaths mixed with her gasps of pleasure…

Her hips lifted from the table to meet his again and again.

Faster and faster.

Harder and harder.

Deeper and deeper.

“Mine,” he growled again. “Say it, Marian. Say you’re mine.”

She turned her head, her lips brushing against his ear as her head swayed back and forth in time with the rolling of her hips and the pounds of his cock, and whispered breathlessly, “I’m yours.”

Gwaine roared as the building pressure suddenly released. He pulsed inside of her, and she clenched around his shaft as she tumbled through the ecstasy, coaxing him, milking him. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and her legs tightened around him, shuddering through wave after wave of warmth and pleasure, calling his name. Thrust after thrust, he spilled his seed into her over and over again.

As their bodies calmed, he let go of her hair and buried his face in her neck, trying to catch his breath. He’d never lost that much control before, and it frightened him. He was forceful and demanding, and damn, it had felt so good. Though he thought she’d cried out, Gwaine hoped to God he wasn’t so lost in his own need that he hadn’t taken care of her.

She smiled at him when he lifted his head to look at her. There was a soft blush across her cheeks, and her lips were swollen and rosy. She looked thoroughly fucked, and it was beautiful.

“I love you,” she whispered, out of breath.

Gwaine smiled back at her.

“I love you,” he replied as he placed a feather-light kiss on the tip of her nose. “I love you.” He kissed her brow. “I love you.” He kissed her eyelids. “I love you.” He kissed her lips. “I love you.” He kissed the hollow of her throat.

As he pulled out of her and stood, he brought her with him and held her close. Still between her legs, he settled his chin on the top of her head. He was never going to let her go.

Marian wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest. The nightdress clung to her damp skin, but she didn’t care. She wanted to stay in his arms forever. Gwaine had done precisely what she needed, he’d made her feel safe again.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he said suddenly. “I can’t ever go through that again. My heart can’t take it.” His grip on her tightened, and he kissed the top of her head.

“But you found me. You didn’t lose me,” Marian comforted, nuzzling against him.

“You’re mine, Marian.”

She chuckled. “So you said. I am yours, Gwaine, but realize that you’re also mine. I’m never letting you go.”

“As it should be, beautiful,” he said as he pulled back slightly and brushed the damp hair from her face.

“Gwaine, what do you think about expanding our little family?” she asked as he kissed her temple.

“I’d like that,” he replied, smiling. “Why, do you want to start trying now?” he asked as he looked down at her, his eyebrows wagging.

“You can’t possibly be ready to go again, can you?”

He shrugged. “Can’t blame a man for trying. Especially when the wench is so damn tempting.” He leaned down, and nuzzling her neck, be began to rock his hips against her.

“Well, I guess we’d better fuck as much as we can now, while we still can.”

A lecherous grin grew on Gwaine’s face. He liked fucking his wife. Even more than he liked eating apples or brawling in taverns. With the fire in his loins once again stoked, he nibbled on her earlobe, and his hands roamed her body under her nightdress. He was just starting to kiss down her neck when what she’d said finally sunk in.

“Wait,” he said, lifting his head to look at her. “What do you mean _while we still can_?”

“It’ll be harder to find the time once the baby comes,” she replied.

“Ah,” he nodded. “We still have plenty of time for that then. It’ll probably take a few months for you to get with child, and then we have, what, nine months after that?”

Marian could barely contain her delight. “No, Gwaine. The baby will be here in about seven months.”

The only sound that could be heard was the crackling of the fire as Gwaine stared at his wife. Surely, he hadn’t heard her correctly.

She patiently waited for him to catch up as he blinked a few times.

“Seven months…” he said. “The baby… our baby… will be here in seven months?”

She nodded.

As realization dawned on the knight, he grinned and bent to kiss her soundly. She leaned into him, tugging him closer, and then stopped suddenly. Pulling away, she looked at him incredulously. “Already?” she asked, looking down at his bulging erection.

Gwaine chuckled. “What can I say, my sweet? The thought of my seed growing inside you really turns me on.”

He swept her up into his arms, and kissing her passionately, he carried her to their bedchamber, kicking the door behind him. With a flick of his wrist, Marian’s nightdress flew over her head and floated in the air, finally landing in a heap on the floor just as the door clicked shut.

Gwaine had everything a man could ask for, a beautiful wife who loved him, a daughter, who was, if he were honest, just like him, and a new babe on the way. Family life had been good for the rogue turned knight. And all it took was a feisty blonde from the future to tame him.

The end

**Author's Note:**

> Spells (a rough translation from the Merlin Wiki at merlin dot fandom dot com):  
> Tospringe- open quickly  
> Leoht- light  
> Purhhaele dolgbenn - Heal thoroughly the wound


End file.
